


Fancy Lady

by wilddragonflying



Series: Roleplays [13]
Category: CW Network RPF, Supernatural RPF
Genre: Angst, F/M, Jared prefers the term "fancy lady", M/M, Misha's a drag queen, Prostitution, Undercover Cops, bottom!Jared
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-10
Updated: 2013-11-10
Packaged: 2018-01-01 02:25:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,605
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1039258
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wilddragonflying/pseuds/wilddragonflying
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>To take down Sheppard and Pellegrino, detectives Padalecki and Ackles from different precincts approach the problem two different ways: Padalecki becomes a hooker, and Ackles stakes out the corner Padalecki stands on. And, well, it's a well-known fact in the fandom that whenever Jared offers himself to Jensen, Jensen takes him up on it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fancy Lady

**Author's Note:**

> AKA the fic where Charlie and Aaron try(and fail) to make Jared into a real prostitute. Obviously neither of us know anything about real prostitution.

"You've _got_ to be kidding me," Jensen gapes, staring up at Captain JD Morgan, aghast. "You want me to stake out a _street corner_?"

Morgan has the grace to look sheepish. "I know it's a bit below your pay grade, but Welling and Rosenbaum are already on enough cases, and Kane's _too_ inexperienced," he explains. "You're the only other one I trust with this. This guy's been harming his workers."

"Workers?" Jensen demands, flipping the file open. "You mean this guy whores out men and women?"

"And some others outside of the normal binary," Morgan finishes. "Look, Ackles, I know this isn't what you wanted to do—"

"Nah, it's fine. Not like I've got any other cases till we get the verdict back from the court on that bastard who killed Sophia and Danni." Jensen ignores the ache that throbs each time either of his two former best friends is mentioned. They'd been killed four months ago; a suspect had been resisting arrest, had turned violent and attacked Sophia. Daneel had stepped in, but the man's tox report later reported he'd been tripping, majorly. Neither girl had stood a chance once they'd lost their weapons.

Morgan's expression softens. "So you'll do it?"

Jensen shrugs. "Yeah. I'll do it."

***  
"Slow night, huh?"  
Jared snorts and flicks his cigarette into the gutter, grinding it out with the heel of his shoe. "Speak for yourself."  
Sandy smiles up at him, twisting her body in that strange way girls do when they want a guy to look at their tits. "Well, _I_ haven't had any business yet, and you don't seem too busy just now. Maybe we could..."  
  
"Save it, Sand," Jared cuts her off, not even tempted to let his gaze wander from her face. "You're barking up the wrong tree, and you know it." A familiar car pulls up a few feet away and he checks his watch: right on time. The car's passenger window lowers with a soft electric whirr and Jared lets Sandy wander over to it, knowing she won't be getting inside.  
Sure enough, she returns to Jared mere moments later, looking pissed. "He wants you," she huffs. "I swear to God, you get more business than all of the girls put together most nights."  
Jared grins, nodding in the direction of the car to show that he would be over soon. "That's not true and you know it," he teases. "But some guys are just looking for a little extra; something that you can't give 'em."  
"I wouldn't be opposed to anal!" Sandy protests indignantly, and Jared laughs.  
"I'll see you later, buttercup," he tells her, giving her a kiss on the cheek before swaggering over to the car. It doesn't come around often enough for the others to recognise it, and Jared takes other clients with enough regularity that no one would realise that this particular punter is a regular, so they go through the usual rigmarole of obvious flirting and named prices before Jared relents and gets into the car. As soon as the door shuts and the window is up again, the charade drops.  
"Dude, have the girls been rubbing up against you again? You reek of sex," Chad laughs as they drove off. It doesn't even occur to him that Jared reeks of sex because he's been _having_ sex; while Jared is a prostitute, that isn't part of the job description. "Come on, let's go back to my place for a couple hours. I just bought GTA V.”

Once they get back to Chad's apartment, Chad turns on the console and pops the disk in before moving to the kitchen to grab a couple of beers. "So, any news yet on Sheppard?" he asks, sitting down next to Jared and passing him a beer.

Jared shoots Chad a hard look. "If there was, would I still be freezing my ass off on that street corner?" he demands. Of course, it isn't exactly a fair question, but Chad doesn't need to know that. It’s true enough that Jared wouldn't stick around for his own amusement if he knew for certain that the girls, and boys, in Sheppard's care are being abused. "He's been good to me so far, for what little I've dealt with him. Maybe I'm being too good of a worker. I'll have to talk to the boss about rocking the boat a little."

Chad has the grace to look sheepish. "Right, right, sorry." He thinks over the rest of what he knows of the case, which is, admittedly, not much. Several men and women had turned up in different precincts sporting large bruises and lacerations, claiming that Sheppard had done it to them because they weren't bringing in enough money from johns. Jared had volunteered to become a "prostitute" in order to get closer, determine if Sheppard really was the one abusing the workers. 

"Yeah, that would probably be a good idea. Maybe Ferris'll tell you to actually pick up some johns," Chad jokes, reaching over to punch Jared in the shoulder. 

Jared laughs easily and produces a handful of stale popcorn from between the sofa cushions. "Let's hope so," he teases, throwing the kernels in Chad's face. "They'd be more hygienic than you."

"Hey!" Chad protests, holding up a hand too late to block the kernels. "I resent that!" He lunges for Jared, tackling the taller man sideways and rolling them onto the floor. Wrestling distracts them for several moments, and by the time they're done, both men are panting heavily. "Fine, fine, I give," Chad laughs, clambering up onto the couch again. "Now get up here so I can kick your ass in _something_."

Jared rises to the challenge and grabs his controller, suddenly determined not to spend his remaining hour of freedom being humiliated by Chad Michael Murray. "In your dreams, man," he chuckles as they resume their game. "I'm gonna wipe the floor with you."

***

A glance at the clock in the dashboard tells Jensen it's thirty minutes to midnight, and right on time, a yellow car pulls up to the curb on the street corner Jensen's been watching for the past two weeks. This car shows up every three days, and the tall man— one that another hooker, Sandy, had told him was new and seemed to be the most popular thing since sliced bread and pre-lubed condoms— climbs in after chatting with the driver. Jensen makes a note in his clipboard; he's been keeping track of the cars that pick up the workers on this corner. That's the fifth car today, and obviously this guy's a regular; none of the other cars have shown up more than once.

Jensen frowns to himself, tapping the end of his pencil against his lips. Why was this guy so popular? Yeah, Jensen wasn't blind, and he liked to think he possessed good observation skills; the dude was obviously a looker. But looks don't always count for everything. Jensen shrugs, tossing his clipboard into the passenger seat as the other girl— Sandy— crushes out her cigarette and walks off, presumably towards home. Maybe he'll talk to this guy tomorrow.

Jared spares the dark car with the tinted windows a single glance as he crosses the street towards the rest of the workers, huddled together for protection against the cold. None of the others have noticed it yet, but Jared knows it's been there off and on for at least a week. He pegged the guy for a cop as soon as he saw him, but no one's told him yet that someone else has been put on the job, which means that the guy doesn't know who Jared is. A part of him wants to tell him, to make sure he doesn't interfere with his own investigation, but he doesn't want to risk blowing his cover so as long as the guy doesn't get in his way, he can sit and watch all he likes. And he does like. Jared has felt the guy's appreciative eyes on him more than once in recent nights.  
"You look cheerful," a soft voice says close to his ear, and Jared jumps. "Easy, sugar. Jesus, I hope you overcharged him if he's got you this on edge."  
Jared turns toward Misha, their corner's resident drag queen, with a smile. "Sorry, I was miles away," he explains, but he isn't about to pass up an opportunity to get a dig in against Chad, even if Misha doesn't know him. "He wasn't actually into anything weird. Dude just wanted to _cuddle_."  
Misha barks out a surprised laugh and offers Jared a cigarette, which he takes. "Damn, you lucky bastard. The guy who dropped me off about an hour ago was into weird Japanese rope bondage. He wanted to hang me from the ceiling."  
Jared splutters, chokes on smoke. "You're shitting me? I hope you kicked him in the balls and took his money anyway."  
The dark glint in Misha's eyes tells him all he needs to know. "It was actually kinda fun," she confides, and then laughs at Jared's scandalised expression. "Honey, if you think _that's_ weird, you're in for a nasty surprise one of these days. There was this one guy who had a major thing for feet..."  
Jared manages to stick around long enough for Misha to recount this unnerving story and then takes his leave, feeling decidedly green around the gills. Misha calls after him that he's a pussy and Jared flips her the bird over his shoulder, but he's smiling as he walks past the dark car with an exaggerated swing to his hips, the burn of a heated gaze searing into the back of him.

Dammit, this was going to get Jensen into a lot of trouble, but— "Hey!" he calls, climbing out of the car and kicking the door shut behind him. It takes him a few strides to catch up with the other man. "You're Sheppard's new guy, right?"

Jared turns very slowly, barely able to believe his ears. Is this guy _trying_ to blow his own cover? The cop's eyes aren't the only ones Jared can feel on him now and he knows that the girls and the few guys he's just left are watching them both intently. He plays it cool, cocking his hip to the side and fixing the cop with a coy smile. "So what if I am?" he asks smoothly. "What is it to you?"

Jensen could feel the eyes on them, and he wishes he wasn't out in public so he could smack himself. How stupid could he get over a pair of pretty legs attached to a gorgeous ass? Pretty damn stupid, apparently. "I've heard some good things about you," he purrs instead, narrowing his eyes. He knows the effect it has on people, straight or not. "Was just wondering what it'd take to see if you're as good as they say."

Jared thinks fast. If he takes the guy up on his offer and he gets arrested, then there's nothing they can actually do to him—but if he turns him down, then he risks missing an opportunity to have sex with this man. And this man is _hot_. Jared smiles. "Hundred and fifty bucks an hour, plus extra charges if you want something... off-menu. Think you can afford that?"

Jensen raises one eyebrow. "I can afford it." He turned slightly, gesturing for the man to follow him back to the car. Jensen reaches the car first— good thing, meant he could throw the clipboard and other stuff that would give him away in the back before the man got in the car. Once the other man is in, though, Jensen resumes his act. "So, you got a preference for any of the motels around here?" he asks casually. "And when do you want to be paid?"

Jared leans back into the cool leather seat, watching his new client out of the corner of his eye. He gives directions to one of the mildly respectable motels not too far from here and then chuckles, low and deep. "Why don't you tell me what you want from me first, and then we can discuss payment?" he suggests.

Jensen had to laugh at that. "Been on the streets for less than a month and you're already a professional," he comments. "I don't want anything fancy; just to let off some steam." As they're pulling into the parking lot, it occurs to him to ask, "What should I call you?'

"Sam," Jared answers as he gets out of the car, the name he gives to all his clients. "And you?"

"Dean."

Jensen pays for a room for the night— he'll need a place to sleep, and he's not looking forward to his cold apartment. At least the sheets will be warm after he and Sam are through. He leads Sam around the building to the room and quickly unlocks it, letting them both in before shutting the door. Once the door's shut, he turns, crossing his arms over his chest, and eyes Sam. "So. You usually top or bottom?"

Jared sits on the edge of the kingsize bed while he considers this question. Since he started working the streets, he's been an exclusive top, not willing to trust his clients with so vulnerable a part of himself—but if there's anyone he can trust, surely it's a fellow cop. Even if Dean is willing to pay for sex. "I usually top," he admits, a slow smile curving his lips as he reaches out, catches Dean's hand in his and pulls him closer. "But tonight I wanna bottom."

Jensen smirks and pushes Sam backwards onto the bed. "Good. I'm not in a mood to rock-paper-scissors for it." Everyone at the precinct knows he sucks at rock-paper-scissors, which is why he usually just ends up volunteering for stuff.

***

"Damn. They were right," Jensen huffs out on a slight breath of laughter. "Best sex I've had in a long time." He leans back on his elbows, watching Sam pick up his clothes. After a moment, Jensen leans over the bed to dig out his wallet. "Here." He pulls out a hundred and a fifty, glad that he'd stopped by the bank the other day and pulled out a decent amount of cash, and hands it over to Sam.

Jared takes the money and slides it into his back pocket with a soft, "Thanks." His ass is aching and he'll probably be walking with a limp tomorrow, a pleasant reminder that he just got fucked to within an inch of his sanity. He isn't going to say so, but Dean is pretty damn good in the sack too, and Jared hopes he'll come back for more. "I guess I'll see you around."

Jensen shrugs. "Maybe, maybe not," he allows. Jensen's about 95% sure that Sam had deliberately walked past his car— he'll have to remember to start switching up his routine. "Wouldn't mind it if you did, though," he adds as an afterthought, getting up and stretching, heedless of his nudity. "I'm gonna take a shower and crash here. You're welcome to leave anytime. Or stick around. Whatever works."

Jared's eyes are currently glued to Dean, his gaze dragging across the expanse of all that glorious skin. He wants to take Dean up on his offer, he wants to stay—but he doesn't dare. "I have to go," he says, his voice betraying his reluctance, and finally forces himself to look away. "I have responsibilities. But if you ever have another itch that needs scratching, I'd be happy to oblige."   
He doesn't wait for a reply, slipping out of the motel room without another word. It's fucking freezing outside and he pulls his jacket tight around himself as he crosses the parking lot, hoping to hail a cab. When he finally gets home, he doesn't pay the driver with the money Dean gave him. It just doesn't feel right. 

***

Jensen doesn't speak to Sam for another two days— then he decides _fuck it,_ when he sees his replacement driving up. Luckily Sam's standing in a spot that won't be seen from where the replacement car will park, and Jensen rolls down his window as he pulls up, offering the other worker standing next to Sam a smile, though it turns heated when he turns to look at Sam. "You up for another round?" he asks, hooking his elbow through the open window.

"Definitely," Jared agrees, perking up. It's been a slow night, and the one potential client who approached him had turned out to be a creep. He steps away from the guy he's been chatting to and gets into Dean's car, smiling at him as they drive away. "Same as last time?"

"Works for me," Jensen grins, some restlessness settling inside him. He chalks it up to the anticipation of getting a repeat of the best sex he'd had in years, though.

***

This time, when they're through, Jensen lays a hand on Sam's shoulder, stopping him from getting up just yet. "I was wondering— Sheppard treat you decent?" he asks, aiming for casual. There'd been another worker on the corner the day before, bruises blossoming over her face. Jensen had asked her what happened, and she'd replied that Sheppard hadn't liked how she'd gotten her customers. She'd claimed it was one of her customers that beat her, but Jensen had still been tracking the customers, gauging their height, weight, and relative strength, and he hadn't seen her leave with anyone that could have done the damage she was obviously trying to hide.

Jared tenses, but doesn't shrug Dean's hand off. "He treats _me_ just fine," is his careful answer, but the frustration he feels is evident in the clipped tone of his voice. "But I haven't pissed him off yet. Why are you asking?"

Jensen shrugs. "Just saw some of the other workers looked a bit... worse for wear," he says neutrally, struggling not to let his own frustration show.

Jared nods, his gaze unfocused as he stares off into the far corner of the room. "He laid into Misha a few nights ago, I'm pretty sure of it," he admits. "Misha's the drag queen. She's got a dick but she's the sweetest woman you'll ever meet, and she walks up one night looking like she went a few rounds with a paving slab. But she's loyal to a fault, wouldn't tell me it was Sheppard." Jared huffs, irritated, and scrubs a hand over his face. "I can't _do_ anything until she gives me his name."

Jensen frowns at that. "Why would you be able to do anything?" he asks gently. "You're just another worker, right?"

Jared winces, hoping he didn't just give himself away. It's different now that he's actually had sex with Dean; he can go to jail now. "Of course," he says quickly. "But I value my own ass too, you know? Maybe it's selfish, but I'm not gonna risk it until I know for certain that I'm going after the right guy."

"And if you go after him, what's to keep you from getting your own ass handed to you?" Jensen demands, staring at Sam. Why the hell does this fool seem so damned determined to be a hero in a world where there really aren't any? Not that he's seen, at least. There's the leaders— like Sheppard and his partner, Pellegrino— and the henchmen, and then the workers, the ones who make the drugs or sell themselves. Jensen shoves away the disgust threatening to curl through his gut, reminding him that _he's_ catered to the bad guys' business, now; he's hired a hooker. Not just any hooker, but one who works for the guy he's trying to put away.

Jared laughs bitterly and shakes his head."I can take care of myself, Dean," he says, finally shrugging the other man away from him and slipping out of bed, not bothering to take the sheet with him. "I don't need you to worry about me."

Jensen sits up, frustration radiating off of him. "Sam, I'm just— You're a good guy. You shouldn't go looking for trouble. Has it occurred to you that maybe the police are looking into this?" 

 _Which is what you should be doing,_ that annoying little voice in the back of his mind reminds him.

 _Shut up,_ he rebukes, ignoring it and focusing on Sam instead. He doesn't even know where this protectiveness has come from, but all he knows is that he wants Sam to be safe. And he won't be if he goes after Sheppard.

Jared freezes, his own fair share of guilt suddenly weighing much heavier upon him than usual. "Yes, it has occurred to me," he says simply as he forces himself to move, pulling his jeans up. "But it doesn't change anything. Can I have what you owe me, please?"

"Sure." Jensen fished the bills out of his pocket and hands them over. "Here. Same as last time." He hesitates, and then grabs a piece of the motel's stationery and a pen, scribbling down his cell phone number. "You ever get in trouble, or anything, give me a call, okay?" Jensen's aware this isn't exactly ordinary john behavior, but he doesn't give a flying fuck at the moment. All he knows is that he doesn't want Sam getting hurt.

Jared laughs as he takes the number, pocketing it along with the money and a silent vow to throw it out as soon as he gets home. "Sure thing, man," he drawls, voice dripping with sarcasm. "I'll do that." He shrugs on his jacket and moves to the door, throwing one last look at Dean over his shoulder. He looks beautiful, sitting up in bed with sex-mussed hair and the sheets pooling at his waist, and a really stupid part of Jared wants to stay. This thought shocks him, and he leaves quickly without saying goodbye.

Jensen's not stupid. He knows if he gets out of bed, throws on a pair of pants, and walks down the hall, his number will be sitting pretty in the trashcan. Still, he can't help the part of him that's telling him to help Sam get out of this life. Sam's a good guy, Jensen can see it. He shouldn't be in this life.

**  
Dean becomes one of Jared's regulars after that, one of the few that aren't plain-clothes cops just swinging by to keep up pretences. None of the guys know that Jared is turning tricks for real, of course, which means that a couple of times a night he has to forsake the money in favour of being whisked away by one of his friends, usually Chad, for beer and video games. Not like he minds. Jared isn't hooking for the money; he's hooking because he likes sex, and he likes the exhilaration of one-night-stands. At least if he's getting paid for it, he has something to gain beyond a reputation for an being easy lay. It also means that the johns have higher expectations of him than the normal guys he could pick up in clubs, but that isn't a big deal. Jared is _good_ , and he knows it.  
Over the last few weeks, Jared has started really looking forward to his sessions with Dean. He knows that the guy is a cop, and that he still takes his shifts watching their corner, but if it doesn't bother Dean then it doesn't bother Jared. With increasing frequency, Dean swings by as soon as his shift ends—Jared has learnt to wait for him just around the corner, where Dean's replacement can't see them—and together they speed off for an hour of amazing sex and emotional detachment. Except that last part doesn't seem to be part of the deal anymore. Jared likes Dean, and he knows that Dean likes him.  
It's terrifying.   
"So," Jared begins one night as he slides into the passenger seat of Dean's car. Dean starts driving before he even has a chance to fasten his seatbelt, eager to get away. "Where are you getting the money for this, anyway? This is the third night this week, and I stayed for two hours last time." There's a smile in his voice as he says that last part: it had taken Dean quite a bit of effort to talk Jared into round two, but damn, it had been worth it.

Jensen shrugs, flipping the bird at some jackass who just cut him off. "Picking up extra shifts in the bullpen filing paperwork, being on the right side of several lawsuits, doing my job well enough to get good bonus checks, the usual. Not to mention it doesn't hurt that as a bachelor, I survive on microwave TV dinners, canned soup, and Hot Pockets."

Once they get to the motel, the motel owner already has a key waiting for them; they've become regulars there, as well. This time is no less amazing than any of the others, but this time he doesn't let Sam leave after they're done. "Cmon. Let's just sit and chat. I know you've had several other johns today; you don't need to work anymore tonight," he coaxes, laying a hand on Sam's shoulder and letting his thumb rub over a hickey he'd left on Sam's chest. "I'm curious about you." It's probably the stupidest thing Jensen's ever done, but it's not like he has much control over it; he's getting closer and closer to falling in love with Sam. And he doesn't even know anything about the guy, except he's great in bed, and Sam probably isn't even his real name.

Jared knows he should leave, should shut Dean down straight away and get the hell out of there, maybe even put a stop to their meetings for a little while—but he doesn't want to. He feels safe here, and cared for, and as stupid as he's sure it is he relaxes into Dean's touch, rolling his shoulders until Dean gets a clue and starts to massage them. "Whatever you wanna know, it's gonna cost you," Jared warns, sighing as Dean digs his thumbs in just right. "...Twenty bucks per question, whether I answer it or not. Think you can handle that, rich boy?"

Jensen laughs. "Then I'll have to make sure I get my money's worth," he teases. He continues massaging Sam's shoulders, trying to think of questions that won't spook the other man off. "Okay, question one: Where are you from?"

That seems like a reasonable enough question, one that's safe to answer. "San Antonio," Jared confides. "You know you're paying for my time too, right? This doesn't get you out of the one-fifty an hour." He doesn't know why he keeps bringing up money—he still hasn't spent a penny of the cash Dean has already given him—but maybe a part of him hopes that if Dean realises these encounters are going to bleed him dry, he'll stop making them happen. It's a self-preservation thing. 

Jensen chuckles. "You're my only expensive habit," he informs the man sitting in front of him. "I can afford to indulge. Second question: Favorite music?"

They talk for another hour; in the end, Jensen owes Sam four hundred dollars, for two hours and five questions. He pays him, and then drives Sam back to his corner. "See you later," he calls out the window, offering a slight wave as he pulls away from the curb and heads for his small apartment, which he knows from experience is going to feel too small and empty after he's spent time with Sam.

***  
The next time Dean comes for Jared, he's standing with Sandy and Misha. "Oh look, it's your _boyfriend_ ," Misha drawls as soon as Dean winds his window down, and she and Sandy dissolve into giggles. Jared glares at them.  
"He's not my boyfriend," he mutters under his breath. "He's just a client. A very horny client."  
"He's fucking courting you, man!" Misha laughs while Sandy nods in agreement.  
"I've never seen a john swing by so often, even the really desperate ones," she pipes up. "And with a face like _that_ , he is not desperate. He _likes_ you."  
"Well, I don't care," Jared counters, annoyed. "I'm not Julia Roberts and he's not Richard Gere. I'm a hooker and he's a client and that's it." He pushes away from the wall he's leaning on and walks up to Dean's car, bending so that he can poke his head through the window. "The usual?" he snaps, unable to hide his irritation at the girls who are still giggling behind him.

Jensen looks at Sam in surprise. After a moment, he shook his head. "I'm starving. Forgot to bring dinner; thought we could swing by that little Italian place before heading to the motel," he suggests, knowing that he's pushing the boundaries, but he doesn't just want sex anymore.

Jared hates the way his heart skips a beat, but he hates the fact that the girls start to squeal when Dean's voice carries to them even more. He needs to remind Dean—and the girls, and _himself_ —that he's not here to go on dates. He's a prostitute. "That's ordering off-menu," he says bluntly. "It's gonna cost you. Two hundred for the first hour, and the usual fare for the rest of the time, providing you don't try to push your luck."

Jensen raises an eyebrow. "Deal," he agrees easily. Once Sam climbs in, Jensen pulls away. The drive over is quiet, and Jensen glances over at Sam every few seconds. "So, I'm guessing those girls were friends of yours?" he finally ventures.

"Coworkers," Jared corrects, but then allows, "and friends. One of them was Misha. Sheppard seems to have left her alone lately."

Jensen shoots Sam a sharp glance. "You're still determined to go after Sheppard?"

Jared laughs. "None of your business," he reminds Dean with a rueful shake of his head. "The girls think you're trying to date me. You're... not, are you?"

Jensen snorts. "If I was, would I keep paying you?" he counters. "Please. Give me some credit."

In the restaurant, Jensen orders way too much, and when Sam insists that even he can't eat it all, Jensen shrugs and shovels the leftover food into take out boxes. "Take it back to your friends," he says, overriding Sam's protests. "Won't hurt them to have a good meal."

Jared can't really argue with that, so he takes the food with a look that expresses all the gratitude he can't give voice to. 'Thank you' just doesn't seem to cut it—but when they leave, Jared slips his hand into Dean's as they cross the parking lot and presses a kiss to his cheek, murmuring the words into his skin anyway.

"So, the motel?" he asks as they drive away from the restaurant, the take out boxes stacked in a plastic bag by his feet. "Or have you finally broke the bank?"

Jensen laughs and shakes his head. "No to both, I'm afraid," he apologizes. "I was tired and hungry before; now I'm just tired. I'd probably fall asleep before we were even naked, and then you'd take advantage of me and stay there all night. I can afford you, but not all night." He offers Sam a grin, gesturing towards the takeout boxes. "Besides, those are better if they're hot." He stops beside Sam's corner, where the two women from before are standing, apparently awaiting Sam's return. Jensen hands over the money— they'd been gone for an hour and a half, so he gives Sam three hundred-dollar bills— and waves at the girls before heading home.

Jared hands the food over to the girls without a word, feeling slightly dazed. He's just been paid for having dinner instead of having sex. Dean, it turns out, is a fucking liar. That _had_ been a date.  
The girls seem to cotton on pretty quick, shrieking with laughter and calling after him—" _He thinks you're gorrrgeous, he wants to smoooch you, he wants to lurrrrve you_!"—when he turns and walks down the street, no longer interested in whatever business the rest of the night could bring. He has to find a way to put a stop to this, but he doesn't think he has the strength to tell Dean 'no'.  
***  
The next time the all-too-familiar car pulls up in front of him, Jared is ready. He approaches the window, glad that other johns have already picked up Misha and Sandy so that he doesn't have an audience for this, and bends to bring himself face-to-face with Dean. "I've upped my price," is what he says, confident to the point of cockiness. "Two fifty per hour, with additional charges for off-menu orders as per usual. That bank any closer to breaking?"

Jensen just raises an eyebrow. "When my bank's at the breaking point, I'll stop coming around," he informs Sam, gesturing to the passenger seat. "Hop in." There were several jackets— just some things Jensen had picked up at Goodwill, but they were in good shape— sitting in the passenger seat as well. When Sam glances at him with a clear "wtf?!" expression, Jensen shrugs. "My car's got a heater. You guys are standing out on the curb. Don't want any frozen bodies to deal with. You ready?"

Jared doesn't want to let the jacket thing go, but he has to admit that it's thoughtful on Dean's part, and he knows that both he and his fellow workers will greatly appreciate the gesture over the coming winter months. He also lets it go the next few times, when other necessary items turn up in the footwell of the passenger seat, because, well, his momma raised a gentleman. But it starts to get ridiculous, and Jared knows he needs to make more of an effort to put Dean off. He raises his price again, and again, but Dean still won't be deterred, and the gifts keep coming.  
By the time they get to four hundred bucks an hour, Jared's starting to feel guilty. Dean isn't picking him up as often as he used to and no wonder, with Jared asking for more than double the initial amount. Their encounters are getting shorter, too, with Dean not wanting to risk going over the first hour and not daring to ask for anything other than the standard. That doesn't make their encounters any less personal, though. They might be fucking against the clock, but they do so with even more passion and intensity than ever before, and it leaves Jared weak-kneed every time.  
Still, he can't help but want more—more of what they used to have—and when he realises one night that they went over the hour and he'll have to charge Dean eight hundred dollars for one fuck, he acts without even thinking. "Hey, I have an idea," he blurts out, halting Dean with a hand on his arm when he makes to get out of bed. "I'm probably not gonna do anymore business tonight. Why don't I stick around a little while longer? Whatever you want, free of charge."

Jensen glances down at Sam, surprised into freezing with his pants half-on. Sam looks... oddly vulnerable, and Jensen slowly sits back down. "Anything I want, free of charge?" he asks carefully.

Jared's mouth quirks up at one corner. "Well, within reason," he clarifies, thinking about Misha's crazy stories. "I'm not going to let you rub your feet on my face or hang me from the ceiling, but anything else is open for discussion. What did you have in mind?"

Jensen laughs, relaxing back against the bedspread as he studies Sam intently. "Tell me more about you," he coaxes. "Your family, interests, what you did before you became a hooker. I'm curious." _And falling in love with you, and want to know everything._

Jared shoots Dean an irritated look, his lips pursing. "I prefer the term 'fancy lady'," he says primly, just to get Dean to laugh. It works, and they share a grin before Jared sets about telling him everything. They talk about his family, his dogs, his love for old musicals—everything that makes Jared who he is. It actually pains him to spin some bullshit about falling on hard times during college when they get to the part about him becoming a hooker, but he makes up for the lie by forcing the point that he does it now because he likes it, not because he has to. When he's told Dean everything, Jared curls his body against Dean's side and smiles up at him, feeling warm and light in a way that has nothing to do with their shared heat or their shared orgasms. "So what about you?" he asks hopefully. "Since we're breaking every code of conduct between hooker and client, I think it's your turn now."

Jensen laughs and slips an arm around Sam's shoulders. He starts telling Sam about his family, growing up in Richardson as the only openly gay kid, college, and why he became a cop: His brother, another cop, was shot and killed during an armed robbery gone bad. Jensen talks about almost everything— but he doesn't share details about his work, doesn't talk about anything there. "I have to maintain _some_ anonymity," he says wryly when Sam protests.

They talk for another hour and a half, and when it's time for them to get dressed and for Jensen to drop Sam off back at his corner, Jensen quickly pulls out four hundred dollar bills. It feels wrong, paying Sam after every encounter, but especially so now that they've really talked with each other.

It feels wrong to Jared, too, but he takes the money all the same, needing to keep that distance, to make that distinction. He can't let himself or Dean forget that, for all intents and purposes, this is a business relationship. Still, he can't quite hide his pleased smile when they pull up at the corner. "I had fun tonight," he says softly, leaning over the centre console to press a light kiss to Dean's lips before getting out of the car. 

Jensen stays where he is for a moment, slightly stunned. He and Sam haven't kissed before— not when they weren't in the middle of sex. He barely manages to restrain himself from reaching up to press his fingertips to his lips like some teenage girl.

As he pulls away from the curb, Jensen's forced to admit to himself that he isn't falling for Sam— he's already fallen.

***  
Surprisingly, Dean comes back a few nights later, and Jared refuses to acknowledge how happy he is to see the familiar car pulling up to the curb. He doesn't even hear Misha's cat-calling as he hurries over and climbs into the passenger seat, grinning at Dean. "Thank _God_ ," he laughs. "If you hadn't pulled up I might have had to go with that old guy over there." He points to a car across the street and its aging occupant, who has been eyeing Jared for about half an hour, working up the nerve to approach him. "I didn't expect you until next week. Is this what I get when I give out freebies?"

Jensen laughs as he flips his turn signal on and pulls away. "Maybe," he grins, trying to strangle the butterflies in his stomach that only come to life with Sam's proximity. "Cmon, let's get to the motel."

***

Sam's up and getting dressed after they're finished and cleaned up, and Jensen honestly doesn't know how it gets past his filter, but sure enough: "I love you." As soon as the words are out of his mouth, Jensen wants to take them back, terrified that Sam's going to walk out that door and never come back, never get in Jensen's car again.

Jared freezes halfway to pulling his jeans up, panic suddenly threatening to overwhelm him. Oh God, he can't do this; he can't even _think_ beyond the desperate need to get out, get out now. After several long moments of strained silence, Jared finishes getting dressed. He doesn't look at Dean as he does so, not even when he reaches the door and hesitates with his fingers on the handle. "I'm sorry," he whispers brokenly, and steps out into the cold night.

Jensen watches Sam go, blinking back tears. What the hell had possessed him to say that? He _knew_ Sam didn't feel the same way— hell, Sam was a prostitute. He was a professional at not falling in love, at staying detached. He knew that, and yet Jensen had still— Cursing himself, Jensen gets dressed and leaves the room, locking the door behind him. Something tells him that he won't be seeing the inside of this motel room again— Not with Sam, at any rate.

Jared actually gets a good way down the main road before Dean catches up with him, and the cool night air has gone a long way towards clearing his head. When Dean shouts his fake name and begs him to stop, he feels together enough to face him. "What do you want from me?" he asks tiredly, peering down at Dean with sad eyes. "You knew what this was when we started it; you can't possibly expect me to..."

Jensen shakes his head. "No, I don't. I shouldn't have said anything; you're right. I did know what this was when we started. It's on me. But please, at least let me get you back safely," he pleads. He doesn't want anything happening to Sam because he didn't make sure Sam at least got back to his friends safely. "I won't come around again, I swear. Just let me get you back to Misha and Sandy."

Jared doesn't say anything; he just nods and lets Dean lead him back to the car. What is he supposed to do here? Dean doesn't expect Jared to return his feelings, and yet he _does_ —but Jared can't tell him that. It's not even remotely an option. So he keeps quiet on the drive back to the corner and bites his lip bloody trying not to cry.

Misha and Sandy are waiting for their next johns when Dean pulls up across the street, and they give him a wave, but Jared doesn't get out of the car straight away. Nothing about this situation is fair, and he doesn't think he can say goodbye right now and never see Dean again. He just isn't ready. "Come for me tomorrow night," he begs before he can think better of it. "Just one last time, and then we can go our separate ways. Please."

Jensen looks over at Sam, confused, because why the hell would Sam want to see Jensen again? Still, he nods. "One more time," he echoes, his voice slightly hollow. It won't be enough, and he knows it— but it'll have to do.

It's only after Sam's climbed out of the car and Jensen's pulling away that he realizes he didn't pay Sam for tonight. He'll have to remember to bring the money next time, he thinks dully.

As soon as they see Jared's shattered expression, Misha and Sandy are all over him, demanding to know what's happened. "He fell in love with me," is all he says, his voice hollow, and he immediately gets pulled into a tight hug. He buries his face in Misha's neck and shakes with the effort of holding himself together.  
"You love him too, don't you, baby?" Misha coos; the dry sob Jared gives is all the answer they need.  
Sandy wraps her arms around him, too. "Oh Sam," she whispers into his ear. "I'm so sorry."  
She isn't the only one.

***

The next night, Jensen wastes a good ten minutes trying to decide if he should meet Sam or if he should give them a clean break. In the end, he figures out he's not strong enough to resist, and pulls up. Once Sam's inside the car, Jensen pulls away, but he doesn't drive them to their motel; instead, he pulls into an alley several blocks away. He lifts his hips to pull out his wallet and fishes out four hundred dollar bills. "Here. I don't know why you wanted to meet again, but here's what I owe you from last night."

Jared looks at the bills in Dean's hand and feels his heart break. "I don't want your money," he whispers bitterly. "In fact, that's why I asked you to meet me." He reaches into the footwell to retrieve the bag he brought with him tonight and deposits it in Dean's lap, unzipping it before returning to his side of the car. There's a small fortune inside—every cent that Dean has ever given him. "I couldn't spend it. I should never have let you pay me in the first place. I'm sorry." Jared takes a deep breath, steeling himself for Dean's reaction, and continues. "My name is Jared Padalecki, and I'm an undercover cop."

Jensen's gaze snaps from the bag sitting in his lap to Sam's face, looking for a hint of a lie. There isn't any, and Jensen didn't think there was anything left of his heart to break, but nope. Sam— _Jared_ — managed to find a few uncrushed pieces. "You're— You're a _cop_?" he manages to choke out.

Jared nods, avoiding Dean's gaze. "I'm working to put Sheppard away, like you, but he's a slippery little bastard. It's taken way longer than we expected, and, well, you know how I've been occupying myself."

Jensen shakes his head. "You— I can't believe you. You had to have known that I was a cop that first day. Why did you sleep with me— and let me pay you? I mean, I know why I did it— too long with just me and my right hand, and there's no denying you're one of the hottest guys I've ever met, but why did you?"

"Because I was a dick," Jared answers numbly. "I wanted you, and I wanted to see if you'd actually pay for it. But after the first time... I just didn't want it to stop."

Jensen's quiet for several long moments. Then, he says, "Those 'regulars', they're plainclothesmen?" When Jared nods, he continues in a voice overlaid with professionalism, "I'm going to drop you off back with Misha and Sandy. I'll continue my investigation, you continue yours. I see you get in any more cars that aren't those regulars, I'm going to arrest you. I'll turn myself in to prosecute you. Are we clear?"

"Crystal clear," Jared whispers, and suddenly he's on the verge of tears. _Shit_. What else should he have expected? Of course Dean was going to react this way. He may be a cop paying for sex, but Jared is a cop selling himself for sex, and he lied about it. Any love that Dean had for Jared has just been killed, Jared knows it. He just broke his own heart for nothing.

"Good." It isn't, and won't be for a long time, but hey. Not like Jensen's got anything else to do besides get over it.

He drives Jared back to the corner and drops him off without another word before he drives off. It occurs to him as he's pulling into the garage for his apartment building that he never told Jared his name.

Jared doesn't return to work for the rest of the week and most of the next one. His colleagues at the station buy his excuse of being sick—he has been spending his nights standing on the street in the freezing cold, after all—and agree to drive by the corner a few times 'looking for him', but insist that he takes his time and rests up. The investigation isn't going anywhere anyway, they tell him; he deserves a break.  
Sheppard isn't as understanding. Jared managed to keep his dealings with Dean a secret from him, but he still made sure that he went with enough other johns that Sheppard's 50% cut of his earnings didn't look diminished in any way—but when the money stops, the pimp is furious. Nothing that Jared tells him is sufficient enough to get him to back off, and late one night Jared opens the door to Sheppard's henchmen promising to break his legs if he doesn't go back to the corner. Knowing that this, finally, is enough to go after Sheppard, Jared records the conversation on his phone and calls the station, but there's no one there. Turns out that the break they've been desperate for in the case against Pellegrino came just hours before, and every man on deck was needed to bring him in and raise his operation to the ground. Jared is frustrated, but for now he doesn't have any choice.  
He returns to the corner.

***

Jensen refuses to admit that he's concerned when he doesn't see Jared on the corner for more than a week. He doesn't admit his relief, either, when Jared comes back. The day before Jared returns, Jensen receives a call telling him they've finally got several workers willing to testify against Sheppard; the station's going after him tonight.

Except for Jared's 'regulars', business is slow today. Jensen spends a good hour deliberating with himself, but finally he kicks the door open and gets out of his car, shutting the door behind him before he starts walking down the street. He makes sure Jared sees him coming, gives the other man plenty of time to walk away.

Jared considers doing just that, but he forces himself to stand his ground. He hasn't done anything wrong, since Dean he hasn't gone with any other johns, and he can handle whatever else Dean wants him for. Maybe he even owes him that, after everything. Still, he has to look away when Dean reaches him, hands shoved into his pockets and face angled down and to the side. "What do you want?" he asks softly.

"We've got enough to put Sheppard away," Jensen says, getting straight to the point. "We're going after him tonight. My advice? You, Misha, Sandy, and anyone else who doesn't want to get caught in the crossfire needs to get off the street by midnight." He studies Jared carefully, ignoring the ache in his chest from being so close and yet so far. This isn't the man he fell in love with— and yet, at the same time, it is. The paradox just adds to the hurt.

Jared does look up then, his eyes wide and surprised. "Why are you telling me this?"

Jensen shrugs. "Because you care about them," he says simply. "And, god help me, I still care about you."

Jared's breath catches in his throat. He still can't look away from Dean's face. "Thank you," he whispers, his fingers twitching against his side like he was going to reach for Dean's hand before he thought better of it. "For what it's worth, I care about you, too. I lo— I care about you a lot, Dean."

To cover the hurt the surely phony almost-declaration causes, Jensen snorts. "Of course. Look, once this case is over, if you want easy sex, go to a bar or something. At least then maybe you won't have another situation like this." Before he can follow the impulse to kiss Jared, he turns and walks back to his car. He can't help but feel like he's just walked away from what could have possibly been the best thing to happen to him in a long time, but Jensen isn't strong enough to go back there, to accept Jared's almost-declaration of love, to risk him being right, that Jared's just saying that as some consolation.

Jared watches Dean go until he can't bear to look anymore, and then he forces himself to turn away. Pining after Dean isn't going to help him, and besides, there are more urgent matters at hand than his own heartbreak. He has to warn Sandy and Misha about the raid.

***

Three months.

It's been three months since Sheppard and Pellegrino were locked up. And Jensen hasn't seen Jared since; he tries to convince himself he doesn't want to, doesn't want to be with that lying bastard.

It works, almost.

Unfortunately, Kane's decided he needs to lighten up, and what he needs to lighten up is a bunch of cheap beer and tequila. So Kane drags him down to the nearest bar, and Jensen goes along only so Kane will quit bugging him.

It's when he's headed back from the bar with his second beer that he turns around and runs smack into a very familiar chest, spilling beer all over said chest.

"Watch it, asshole!"  
Jared is hardly surprised that Chad manages to speak before he does, despite the fact that it wasn't Chad who just got walked into. He mumbles an apology and tries to dodge past the man whose face he knows would be familiar if he dared to let himself look properly, big Chad catches hold of his arm and stops him from moving.  
"No, don't apologise to him, Jay," Chad insists angrily while Jared keeps his gaze on the floor. "It's his fault for not looking where he was— hey. Hey I _know_ you! Why do I know you?"  
Jared sighs, and forces himself to look up. Sure enough, Dean's familiar green eyes are looking back at him. "You saw him at the corner," he mumbles dejectedly. "He used to stake it out sometimes. Come on, Chad, let's just go."

Jensen stares at Jared, his mouth hanging open. Abruptly, he snaps his mouth shut, before opening it again to say, "No, I'm sorry. I should've been watching where I was going." He hesitates for another heartbeat or two before cautiously offering, "Let me buy you a beer. One you can drink, not wear." He lets a tentative grin tilt up one side of his mouth, pretending his heart isn't about to pound out of his ribs. He hasn't seen Jared in three months, and apparently the old saying is true: Absence makes the heart grow fonder.

Jared exchanges a nervous look with Chad, who seems to realise that there's something more going on here than just two kind-of colleagues bumping into each other. "Um," Chad says intelligently, and then he's pushing Jared toward Dean and stepping away from them. "You two look like you need to talk."  
"No, I don't—"  
" _Talk_ ," Chad insists, and for all that he's an annoying little bastard, he's an intuitive one. Jared knows he hasn't been himself lately, moping around the station while he pines for Dean—exactly what he promised himself he wouldn't do—but only Chad could take one look at this situation and put two and two together.  
Suddenly he's gone, and Jared is left alone with Dean, standing awkwardly between the bar and the seating area. His beer-soaked shirt is sticking to his skin. "I'm not going to take your money from you," he says, and he means it. Beer is a lot different than sex, but Jared just doesn't feel comfortable with the idea. He scans the surrounding tables and feels his face heat up: Chad has fucking left the bar. "Thanks for the offer, but if I want to get home tonight I'm gonna have to follow my ride. It was nice to see you, Dean." Understatement of the century, Jared thinks bitterly. He turns away from Dean and starts moving quickly towards the door, hoping like hell that Chad hasn't actually driven off without him. 

"Jared, wait," Jensen calls, moving through the crowd. _At least he's easy to spot,_ Jensen thinks to himself. Jared easily stands a full head and shoulders above just about everyone else in the bar. He catches up to Jared just outside of the door, and he reaches out to lay a hand on Jared's shoulder. "Please. I do think we need to talk." When Jared turns around, Jensen drops his hand but almost instantly brings it back up to rub at the back of his neck uncomfortably. "I missed you," he mumbles.

"You— you missed me?" Jared asks, incredulous and kind of devastated. "You're the one who walked away. Where do you get off saying that to me?"

"I walked away because as far as I knew, you were just saying that as some sort of consolation! _You're_ the one who walked away from me when I told you I loved you," Jensen argues. Then he draws in a deep breath, trying to calm himself. It won't help matters if they argue and yell in the middle of the street. "Jared. I just want to talk, okay? I meant it; I miss you. I didn't make the smartest decisions, I know. I just—" Jensen huffs out a frustrated breath, forcing himself to look Jared in the eye. "I'm still in love with you. I thought, when you said that day, that you cared about me... I just thought you were saying it out of pity. But I— I want to give this a chance. I want to give _us_ a chance. I don't even know if you want that, but if you do, I'm willing to try." He scuffs the toe of his boot along the pavement before adding, "And, by the way: My name's Jensen. Jensen Ackles."

Jared lets out a slow breath. "That's, uh... that's quite a lot of information," he laughs nervously, and he's not entirely sure that Dean—or Jensen, apparently, and wow Jared really likes that name; wants to know how it tastes on his tongue—can hear his words over the pounding of his heart. "I think maybe I'll take you up on that drink after all."

Jensen offers Jared a sheepish grin. "Sorry. When I get nervous, I tend to start rambling." He leads the way back into the bar, checking every other step to make sure that Jared's still following. A part of him wishes that he could take Jared by the hand and lead him into the bar that way, but he doesn't want to push his luck just yet. Once they're sitting at a quiet(er) corner of the bar, Jensen starts asking his questions. "Why did you start hooking? I mean, I get why you were on the corner in the first place, for the investigation, but why did you start actually selling yourself?"

Jared shrugs, circling his fingertip around the rim of his bottle. "I like sex," he says simply. "I like no-strings-attached sex. I never would have done it off the bat, but I was on the corner, and it just seemed so easy. I didn't have to give up anything but my body, and I was in control the whole time. They couldn't hurt me. It was just... easy." He laughs then, and looks away. "Until you."

Jensen nods slowly. As far as reasons to sell your own body go, Jared's isn't the worst Jensen's ever heard. "Until me?" he prompts gently.

Jared sighs. "I liked it," he confesses. "I more than liked you. I wanted it to be more than just you buying what I was selling. But I knew it couldn't be. You were a cop paying a prostitute for sex, and I was a cop selling myself for sex. Hardly a match made in heaven, right?" He stops himself there and takes a long pull from his beer, using the distraction as an opportunity to gather his thoughts before he continues. "And then you had to go and fall in love with me, make me face my own feelings. I had to tell you then, y'know? I couldn't keep lying to you after that. You deserved so much better. You still do."

Jensen's quiet for another few moments. "I don't know about deserving better," he admits finally, "but I don't want anyone else." He pauses, considering, and then adds, "I still want to try. Us, as an actual couple."

Jared still looks sceptical. "Are you sure?" he asks uncertainly. "This isn't some warped version of payback, is it?"

Jensen stares at Jared uncomprehendingly for a moment. Jared honestly thinks—? "No," he says, shaking his head fiercely. "It's not. Jared, I forgave you for that, okay? It hurt, and it's gonna hurt for a while, but I don't hold it against you."

"Because you love me," Jared asks, except that it doesn't really sound like a question. He smiles. "You still love me."

"I do," Jensen dares to admit, letting himself hope that maybe Jared feels the same. "I love you."

Jared's smile gets wider, and he reaches out to take Jensen's hand. "I love you too, Jensen."

Jensen turns his hand so that their fingers can intertwine, and he rubs his thumb over their knuckles. "Part of me really wants to take you home with me and make love to you," he confesses. "But I don't think that would be the smart thing to do."

"Oh." Jared looks down, gaze tracking the movement of Jensen's thumb. He wants that too, probably more than he should. Every time they've had sex before, it's been passionate and intense for sure, but it's also been quick, rough, as impersonal as they could possibly make it given the feelings that were clearly blossoming between them—but Jared knows that if Jensen were to sleep with him now, it would be different. Jensen himself just said that he wants to make love to Jared, and Jared wants to know what that feels like so bad he _aches_ with it. But Jensen doesn't think that would be a good idea. "You're probably right."

Jensen can hear Jared's disappointment in his voice, and he hesitates. "I just, I don't want to screw this up," he explains gently. "And I don't know what will and won't. I guess... I just want to do this right, yknow?" Jensen laughs sheepishly, shrugging one shoulder.

"No, it's okay, I get it," Jared is quick to reassure him. "Sleeping with the guy who used to be a prostitute right after a reconciliation would be stupid, I guess."

"No, that's not it," Jensen insists, frustrated. "Jared, I love you. I want to sleep with you— I want to _make love_ to you. But I also don't want to rush things."

"We've already had sex more times than most married couples," Jared points out, and maybe what he says next makes him sound a little slutty, but sue him. After getting used to having multiple orgasms every night, Jared hasn't gotten laid in _months_ , and it feels like his whole body is throbbing with the need to feel Jensen's hands on it again. "Take me home, Jen," he pleads. "Show me what it can be like when you're not paying by the hour."

And really, when has Jensen ever made the smart choice? "Okay," he says, leaning forward to kiss Jared quickly. "Let me pay the tab; meet me out front?"

Jared slides a hand into Jensen's hair and pulls him back in for another kiss, this one slower and a lot deeper. When they break apart for air a few long moments later, Jared smiles at the flush on Jensen's cheeks. "Hurry," he whispers, and slides out of his seat.

***

Jensen gets them out of the bar and back to his apartment in record time. Once he has the door unlocked, Jensen wastes exactly no time getting them into his bedroom. "God, Jay, I've missed you," he mumbles again Jared's lips, letting his hands roam over Jared's body, finally stripping the alcohol-soaked shirt off of his lover.

Jared moans his approval of this development into Jensen's mouth. "Missed you," he echoes, tugging at Jensen's belt. "Want you. C'mon."

Jensen nudges Jared backward until he's sitting down on the bed, and then Jensen pauses long enough to get his own shirt off before he pushes Jared onto his back, climbing onto the bed after him, trailing kisses down over Jared's jaw. "Gonna show you how good it can be," he promises.

Jared's fingers tangle in Jensen's hair as he arches into the kisses, already hard enough to cut diamonds. He wants Jensen to get on with it, but at the same time he never wants this to end. Instead of impatiently urging Jensen on like he normally does, Jared forces himself to calm down and relax into the kisses and soft touches Jensen is gifting him with. "Love you," he murmurs breathily, lightly tugging at the hair between his fingers until Jensen moves to kiss him on the mouth.

"Love you, too," Jensen breathes into Jared's skin, his hands re-mapping Jared's body. He's seen Jared naked more times than he can count, but this feels like the first time.

"Love hearing you say that." Jared grins against Jensen's lips as he wraps his legs around his waist and rocks up against him, slow and teasing. "Want you inside me."

Jensen chuckles, kissing Jared once more before starting to move down. "Patience," he chides gently. "We'll get there." He lets one hand run down Jared's body, teasing over his cock and balls before moving lower, circling Jared's hole. "There's lube in the top drawer. Get it out and hand it to me," he instructs.

Jared hurries to obey, pulling the drawer open and scrabbling inside until his fingers close around a familiar-feeling tube. He grabs it and pushes it into Jensen's hand, letting his thumb brush the inside of Jensen's wrist as they make the exchange.

Jensen smiles softly at Jared, flipping the cap open and drizzling some lube onto his fingers before reaching down to circle Jared's hole again. "Ready?"

"Ready," Jared breathes, hips already rolling down against Jensen's fingers. "Please, Jen."

Jensen kisses Jared as he carefully eases one finger past the rim of muscle, groaning softly at the feeling of Jared's hole surrounding his finger with tight heat. "God, Jay. So fucking tight."

"It's been a while," Jared huffs out on a laugh. "Not used to you fucking me open three times a week anymore." His breath hitches as Jensen's finger brushes that spot deep inside him, and a shaky moan escapes him. "I hope you're gonna change that."

Jensen grins against Jared's skin where he's moved his mouth to Jared's throat. "I'm planning on it," he promises, his voice husky. Soon, he's got three fingers working Jared open, and Jensen's gonna lose it if he doesn't get inside Jared soon. "Condoms in the drawer, too," he manages to tell Jared, expecting Jared will want condoms like every other time they've done this.

"No," Jared pants, writhing on Jensen's fingers. He's desperate with need by this point but he's not so far gone that he can't communicate what he wants. "I'm clean, I swear. Please, Jensen. Just you."

"Jesus." The thought of going bareback is almost enough to make Jensen come; he has to squeeze the base of his dick almost painfully tight to stave himself off. "Okay, god, yes." He scissors his fingers, grazing over Jared's prostate one last time before he pulls them out and lifts Jared's legs up, spreading them so that Jensen can line himself up and begin pushing inside. He lets out a soft groan at the feeling of Jared's hole engulfing him, relief at finally being back with the man he loves mixing with the lust rapidly overpowering his system. "God, Jay, so good."

Jared moans, his eyes fluttering shut when Jensen finally, _finally_ enters him. Maybe it's just mind over matter, but it feels even more amazing with nothing between them than it ever did before, and he tightens his arms around Jensen's shoulders, pulling him down for a kiss as they start to move together.

Jensen goes willingly, kissing Jared softly, and then deepening it in time with his thrusts. It's better than any previous time they've been together, and the previous times were pretty damn mind-blowing. Jensen's already close, so he knows he's not going to last long, and he's determined to bring Jared there with him. So he takes Jared's cock in one hand and begins to stroke in counterpoint to his thrusts. "C'mon, Jay," he murmurs, nipping at Jared's lower lip. "Wanna feel you come on my cock."

Jared doesn't need any more coercion than that. He comes hard enough to see stars with a strangled cry, painting both of their stomachs sticky white in slow, forceful pulses that leave him shaking. "God, Jensen," he sobs, oversensitive but still wanting more. "Give it to me. Please, please, give it to me."

Jensen doesn't have it in him to resist Jared's pleas, and he lets go, snapping his hips hard against Jared's ass, sheathing himself balls-deep inside of him with every thrust. It doesn't take more than a few more thrusts before Jensen's coming, too; harder than he ever has before. He rocks in one last time, getting as deep as he can as he fills Jared up with his come. His arms give out then, and Jensen barely manages to get them onto their sides. "God," he pants, smiling at Jared. "That's the best yet."

Jared returns the smile, but it's slow and lazy and a little bit loopy, as blissed out as he is on post-sex endorphins. "And you thought this would be a bad idea," he teases, snuggling closer to Jensen so that they can share a brief kiss. "I love you."

Jensen chuckles. "Never claimed to be the smartest man alive," he murmurs, kissing Jared again. "I love you."


End file.
